The List
by Tehri
Summary: Arthur, annoyed after hearing Alfred call soccer and cricket gay, decides to make a small bet with the younger man in order to prove a point. Alfred is not amused.


**_Author's Note: I shall blame this on my good friend Elin. xD Jokes like this is what happens when we talk a lot about random things._**

**_

* * *

_**

Arthur was definitely not certain about how he got roped into this situation. He was not certain about how Alfred had managed to talk him into coming to visit him before the next meeting. But he did feel himself die a little bit inside now that he was sitting next to his former colony on a large sofa, watching American sports that the younger man had recorded. All Alfred's favourite matches, that was. And Arthur, who had never liked things like baseball or American football enough to even attempt to learn the rules, was getting immensely bored. He had tuned out Alfred's constant chattering after only eight minutes, and he had, this far, gotten by on replying with "mmh", "yeah" and "uh-huh". Occasionally, he snapped up parts of the chatter, most commonly "Fuck, I hate this part" or "God, this is _so awesome_". However, once they neared four o'clock in the afternoon, Arthur began to wonder if Alfred even realised that his old mentor was not listening, and not even watching. And after yet another half hour of pondering how he should point this fact out, he decided to break it to the younger man.

"Alfred," he said, stopping the American in the middle of a sentence. "Do you realise that I have most definitely not listened to a single word you've said, and that I am void of all interest when it comes to these "sports"? It's ridiculous; it's not even real football."

He was blessed with a few seconds of silence, before Alfred laughed and patted his shoulder in an annoyingly patronising way.

"Oh, Iggy, you're so funny," he laughed. "You're talking about _soccer_, old man, not football! Ahahaha! Catch up with modern stuff sometime, okay? It's not ridiculous, it's awesome!"

Arthur gave the young man an annoyed glare and swatted at his hand.

"This is just a bunch of testosterone-gorillas grunting and showing off muscles and tackling each other," he said. "How is that awesome? I swear, it's only an excuse to get to touch other men."

Alfred immediately stopped laughing and instead began to glare back.

"It is not," he yelled angrily. "Football is _not_ like that! It's awesome!"

A sardonic smile spread on the former empire's lips.

"So it's awesome to want to tackle another man to the ground now," he asked. "My, the States can be so very amusing at times, especially since so many men from there claim to be straight..."

The American growled warningly.

"If there are any sports that are definitely gay, then it's cricket and soccer," he retorted. "Seriously, cricket is the gay version of baseball, and soccer... Who the _hell_ wants to watch grown men run around in fucking _shorts_? No one wants to see their legs!"

Arthur's immediate reply was to smack Alfred on the back of his head.

"It's not called soccer, you bloody git," he said sharply. "It's actual football. And if you keep calling cricket gay, you'll get Australia after you, got it? I only need to tell him that you insulted his favourite sport, and he'll be ready to commit murder."

"Well, Australia is just your old colony, right? So it means that _you_ are gay!"

Heavy silence followed Alfred's bold statement. Arthur closed his eyes and took ten deep breaths before opening them again and gave his former colony a glare that almost made the young man retreat to the sanctuary of his bedroom, or his garden shed. Anything that meant a nice solid wall between him and Arthur right now.

"Alfred." Arthur spoke slowly, and with a strange calm. "You did _not_ just call me that, did you? You did _not_ just claim that I'm homosexual."

Alfred gulped. He had trod on extremely thin ice. With a tank.

"... No, I didn't...?"

Arthur closed his eyes and began to count to ten under his breath. And the younger man took the hint and ran as fast as he could.

---

"_Argh_! I can't believe that stupid bloody git!"

Arthur slammed the door to the guestroom behind him and sat down on the bed with crossed arms and glared at the wall. Alfred always managed to insult people, no matter what. Maybe Arthur _was_ the one who had started it by saying that American football was an excuse for the players to touch other men, but Alfred had never needed to bring it that much further.

"I am _not_ gay," he muttered. "I absolutely don't like men. Ugh, it's such a disgusting thought..." He laid down and stared up at the ceiling. "I'm not bloody _France_... I would never..."

_But then again, Alfred has grown up to be a very handsome man, hasn't he?_

Oh lovely. Just when one needed some time alone to seriously think about something (such as how to get back at Alfred), the "good conscience" showed up, looking like Britannia Angel... The little Angel tilted its head and smiled softly.

_He was just mad, Arthur. You shouldn't blame him, right? It's not the right thing to do._

He sighed quietly and shook his head. Perhaps that was right, but that did not mean that Alfred had any proof to back up his ridiculous claims.

_You can't claim that you haven't thought of it, you idiot._

... And it was getting even lovelier. Now there was a Devil-version as well, and it was grinning and poking at him with a pitchfork.

"Get lost, both of you."

_What? You really think I never noticed those little thoughts about how tall and muscular he is? Or the times you actually dreamt about him?_

_I don't think you're helping him..._

_Who the hell said anything about _helping_? I'm a devil; I'm just trying to promote some Lust here! Sod off, featherboy!_

_Featherboy?! I'll have you know that you used to have wings like this as well, you bloody-_

_Ooh, I don't think widdle angels are supposed to yell cusswords! Mommy will be mad at you! Heh, fucking pussy..._

"Oh, for Pete's sake..." He swatted at them, but they drifted away from his hands. "I just need to get back at him, and he'll never call me gay again. I bet that he is the one who is still in the closet..."

The Angel and Devil grinned mischievously at him. He blinked.

_Well, it _is_ some form of a virtue to help others realise something about themselves, I'm sure of that..._

_And there will be some vice because you'll most likely be pretty cruel to him, so my boss might promote me! I'm in!_

_I have no objection to what you are about to do, Arthur._

_Hah! This will be so bloody awesome! Do it! Do it now!_

Arthur felt a smirk creep to his lips. Neither of them objected. Actually... He was not certain about if this would work.

"It is a little crazy," he mumbled.

_Would you prefer that I take over your body again and go perform some miracles?_

"... I get it."

* * *

The meeting started off on an odd note. While it was true that Alfred was the King of Being Late for Meetings, Arthur never had a reputation of being late. Not even if he stayed with Alfred for a few days before. But today, everyone was gathered; except the former empire and his former colony. And after waiting for almost twenty minutes, loud voices could be heard in the corridor on the other side of the door.

"Just tell me what the hell this bet is about!"

"No, Alfred, that will only ruin it for the others. I believe they would enjoy this little show."

When the two bickering nations finally came through the door, everyone realised that there was something amiss. Because normally, Arthur was not smirking as if he had just beaten France into a bloody pulp (again) and made him beg for mercy, and Alfred was not normally scowling. The silence in the room was heavy as the two men calmly took their seats. As the other nations continued staring, Seamus glanced around quickly and groaned.

"Really," he said with his thick Irish accent. "_No one_ else is going to say it? It _has_ to be me?" Some blinked and looked at him, obviously confused. "Well, alright. Oi, Fuzzy and Brat, what the hell is up?"

Arthur's green eyes locked on his older brother, the smile not fading even the slightest.

"Call me Fuzzy again, Ireland, and I'll shove a bottle down your throat," he replied calmly. "But alright, I'll explain."

People watched him as he glanced at Alfred again before standing up.

"I merely wished to make a bet with America," he smirked. "And I thought that it would be best to do this here, so that he won't deny anything when he loses."

"Who the hell said I'd lose, old man?!" Alfred flew up from his seat, giving his old mentor a challenging glare. "I won't lose! No matter what the hell you throw at me!"

The Brit's smirk widened.

"If you would allow me to continue, America," he said sweetly. "After all, shouting like that only shows how insecure you are." A few snickers around the room as the American growled and sat down again. "Thank you. Now. A few days ago, there was a certain incident, during which America decided that it was suddenly a lovely idea to call me gay."

Francis raised his hand, a seductive smile on his lips as he eyed his old rival's body up and down.

"My apologies, _Angleterre_," he said, "but are you not? I can never be too certain..."

Arthur's eyes flared for a split second, and it was enough to make the Frenchman hold up his hands in a mock surrender.

"I thought a little about this incident," he continued after clearing his throat. "And I came to a conclusion. Is it not a fairly usual reaction to take feelings one might have and instead project them on someone else? To simply... deny something about yourself, and instead claim that it fits on another person?"

He smiled again, seeing nods around the room; people had heard of this before, of course. Some nations looked a little confused, maybe disapproving. But no one objected to this, except Alfred.

"What the hell, Iggy?!" The American flew up once again, slamming his fist against the table. "Is that what this is all about?! You're just angry because I called cricket and soccer gay sports!"

Australia growled angrily and slowly stood up; cricket was his favourite sport, and _no one_ insulted it without facing him for a beating. _No one_. Not even the leading superpower of the world.

"Please, Australia, sit down." Arthur smiled easily and waved for the former colony to sit; Australia reluctantly obliged. "America, I am not angry about that. Why would I be? It is only childish to react in such a fashion, at least when someone insults a sport that is played in other countries as well. Cricket is not mine alone, and soccer is popular over most of the world, no? But I got curious about your reaction when I teased you a little."

"Get to the point, England." Ludwig sighed deeply. "Get to the point. I want to get on with this meeting, alright?"

Arthur flashed the German a smile and nodded.

"Of course, Germany," he said politely. "Now, what I've noticed is that there are a few terms in certain American sports that sound rather... wrong." He held back a chuckle. "The bet is about whether I can, with the help of these terms, show that America must at least have considered being with a man, or not."

His emerald eyes looked back to Alfred, who gritted his teeth in anger. The other nations were silent for a while, but then Seamus got to his feet and sauntered over to them, grabbing Alfred's wrist and dragging him closer to Arthur on the way. He glanced at both of them as they faced each other; one very calm and smiling Englishman, and one very annoyed and scowling American. The Irishman looked almost as serious as if they were about to go through a major political procedure.

"If you, Arthur Kirkland, lose, then what will you do or offer the winner," he asked.

Arthur smiled sweetly.

"If I lose," he started softly, but then spoke a little louder. "If I lose, I will for three weeks speak American English and eat nothing but American food. I will also vow not to cook for anyone else for two months."

The nations murmured; for being Arthur, that was a pretty big wager. Seamus smiled slightly. His little brother must be certain about being able to win this if he really meant what he said. After all, he'd never give up his precious language, and he would not even touch American food with a ten feet long pole. And giving up cooking had always been out of the question, even when others had threatened him with severe bodily harm unless he stopped poisoning them with his horrible food.

"And if you win?"

Arthur's smile widened.

"If I win," he said, "Alfred is to follow a small list of things I want him to do."

The Irishman nodded and looked at the American.

"Do you, Alfred F. Jones, accept the terms of this bet?"

Alfred pondered for a moment. On one hand, that list was probably going to be long and extremely cruel, if he knew Arthur right. The old man was a fairly sore loser, despite his "honour". On the other hand, he could win and get some hilarious weeks of hearing the Brit speak like him...

"I accept," he said, clenching his fist. "It's not like I'm going to lose anyway."

Seamus nodded again and looked at the other nations.

"Well, now the terms have been stated, and accepted," he said with a smirk. "I say, let us hear what our dear England has to say."

He returned to his seat; everyone was now watching the two nations intently, no one willing to miss a moment. Alfred lifted one eyebrow.

"Well, are you going to say it?"

"Ah, but there are many terms to choose from," chuckled Arthur. "But I think I have decided on one now." His eyes twinkled mischievously. "You might want to sit down, Alfred."

The American snorted. "I don't need to sit down just because you'll say something that will sound weird only to you. Spill it. You'll lose anyway."

The Brit tilted his head.

"I will only need two words, lad."

Francis began to grin. _Only two words? Mon dieu, this is going to be good..._

Arthur smirked and lifted one hand, poking at Alfred's chest.

"Tight. End."

The silence in the room was very impressive. Not a single sound was heard. No one moved. Only when Seamus actually dropped his beloved bottle of whiskey did the reactions start to spread. Francis promptly began to grin in a way that could only be called perverted. Denmark and Gilbert glanced at each other before breaking down, laughing hysterically as they fell out of their chairs. Tino blushed heavily, while Berwald settled for facepalming. Yao chuckled, covering his mouth with one hand to disguise the chuckle as a cough. Ivan tilted his head and watched the two curiously. The reactions were, in short, fairly amusing. And after a few moments of letting the words sinking in, Alfred's eyes widened in sudden realisation. He stared at his old mentor who stood there in front of him with a wide grin. And then, he promptly proceeded with passing out.

---

Once Alfred woke up, he found that he was still on the floor. Matthew sat there next to him, watching him with a worried face.

"A-Al," he gasped. "Oh, thank God, you're awake!"

The American groaned and slowly sat up, rubbing the back of his head.

"Ow... Fuck, that hurt..." He sighed deeply, and then his eyes suddenly widened. "Fuck you, Arthur!"

He looked up at the Englishman, who leant back in his chair with a smile as he stuck one hand in his pocket and pulled out a paper.

"Here is that list I mentioned," said Arthur calmly. "Since you agreed with the terms, you will have to do everything that's written here, and I will be keeping an eye on you to make sure that you actually do it." He unfolded the paper a little bit. "This first little thing should actually be done here."

As he showed Alfred the paper, only the first line could be read. And the poor American stared, his blue eyes widening comically.

"T-that's not fair," he yelled. "I won't do that, because you know that it's true!"

The Englishman leaned closer and poked at his former colony's forehead.

"I won," he said softly. "You agreed to the terms. So admit it."

Francis, ever curious, grabbed the paper from his old rival's hand and read the first line. He blinked in surprise; first, he looked at Arthur, and then at Alfred, and then back at Arthur again. He read the line twice before deciding that it must be right.

"_Mon Anglais mauvais_," he said, frowning as he spoke. "Is this not a bit too harsh on the poor boy? Why not skip this?"

Arthur shook his head.

"No, it is fairly important." He smirked as he leant back again, snatching the paper from the Frenchman's fingers. "It is merely to make him lose his ego a little bit."

Alfred groaned and climbed back into his chair. He hated this list already. One single damn line and he already hated it. Arthur was certainly some kind of expert at being too harsh...

"I'm not gonna say it," he growled. "I just won't, okay? It's stupid!"

The Brit rolled his eyes.

"If you'd just say it, then we'd all get some peace, and the meeting could continue," he replied calmly. "Just say it now, lad. It's not as bad as you think it is. You need to make your ego a little smaller anyway, no?"

Alfred grumbled, muttering things about stupid limeys under his breath before he slowly started to search for the words.

"I... I'm..." He frowned slightly and bit his lip. "I'm n-not..." Surely there was a way around this? "M-maybe I'm not..."

The next moment, Arthur was by his side and pinching his ear. He let out a loud yelp and flailed helplessly, trying to make the older nation let go.

"Oow! Ow, it hurts! Stop it, old man! Stop!"

"Then just say it, you stupid brat! It's not that hard!"

Alfred rubbed his ear once the other man let go and almost seemed to shrink down in his chair before he whispered something that none of the other nations could hear. Arthur sighed deeply and poked him in his ribs; the American groaned again before speaking up, as loud as ever.

"I'm not awesome."

After having said this, he slumped back, looking as if his pride had been crushed to dust and spread for the wind. Arthur merely grinned and patted his head ("See, that wasn't so bad, was it?") and returned to his seat, asking Ludwig to start the meeting.

* * *

Alfred pointedly refused to even glance at Arthur during the entire way home; he was still fairly angry about what had happened, and he was not very ecstatic about the list either. He simply didn't want to know what he'd have to do next. And he didn't like the fact that his old mentor looked so calm, that he was smiling because of the entire situation. So, once they had returned to Alfred's house and made themselves something warm to drink, the younger nation suddenly looked up and glared at the older.

"I am _not_ gay," he growled, making Arthur raise an eyebrow and look up from his newspaper for a moment. "I am not gay, and you _know_ that. Stupid limey."

Arthur did not reply. Instead, he picked up his cup of tea and took a small sip, calmly continuing to read.

"For fuck's sake, you _know_ that I'm not gay, Arthur! It's not funny! Hey! Stop ignoring me, old man!" He glared angrily at the Brit, who threw him an amused glance. "If anyone's gay, then it's you and France! Hah, I bet that you're sleeping with him!"

The amused look in Arthur's emerald eyes were gone. He calmly put down the newspaper, reached over to Alfred and swatted at his head.

"France would try to bed anything on two legs at least once," he said. "And I have disliked him severely ever since I was a child. Don't be stupid, Alfred."

The American growled again and kept glaring.

"What do you want me to do next," he muttered once he stopped growling. "Should I clean your boots, or what?"

Arthur gave a short laugh and shook his head.

"No, now you're being stupid again, lad," he said. "Actually, the next point on the list is about how filthy your home is." His eyes twinkled slightly as the younger man bristled. "Don't talk back. You know exactly what I mean, even though you've tried to ignore it all. Clean your house, thoroughly. Not just vacuuming. Understood? I'm not letting you slip away, no matter what you do."

The American groaned loudly and banged his head on the desk.

---

The time it had taken for the formerly awesome Alfred F. Jones to go through his old mentor's list had been an absolute hell, at least from his point of view. He had not even been allowed to eat any hamburgers, or any other sort of junk food (which he had practically lived on before). He had been forced to clean his entire house, which included doing laundry and cleaning the windows, and more. Arthur had even forced him to exercise, despite the lad's loud protests about that he didn't need to ("T-that's not _flab_! I'm not getting fat!"). He had been forced to work so hard that he even missed his favourite shows on TV, which equalled a complete disaster in his eyes. So when Matthew called one evening, Alfred took the opportunity to rant. Loudly, and with as many insults involving England and Englishmen as possible.

"I can't stand it, Mattie," he all but yelled. "He's working me far too hard! I can't even eat what I want; it's getting so damn annoying!"

"W-well, you do eat too much hamburgers," Matthew replied nervously. "Maybe... I mean, maybe he really is thinking about your best, Al...? M-maybe he's not doing this to be cruel?"

Alfred snorted.

"That fucking limey bastard doesn't know how to be anything else than cruel."

If Alfred had looked over his shoulder when he said those words, he would have seen a very surprised and also hurt Arthur in the doorway. The Englishman remained where he stood until Alfred finally hung up and put down the phone, still muttering curses.

"Alfred...?" The younger nation glanced over his shoulder and scowled. "I wanted to talk to you about the list."

"Oh, for fuck's sake Arthur! Isn't it _done_ soon?! I mean, how fucking long can one list _be_?!"

Arthur smiled faintly as he walked over to the couch and sat down next to the former colony.

"Actually, there is just one thing left," he said softly. "But I suppose that we could skip it."

Alfred, who had been getting ready to protest loudly against the next point on the list, merely opened and closed his mouth a few times, almost like a fish on land.

"... Skip it...? Why..? I mean, you've insisted on every single point, and..."

"I just feel that we can skip it." Arthur smiled at him. "It's not anything important anyway."

Just as he was about to get up again after a moment of silence, the younger man grabbed his wrist and pulled him back; Alfred's blue eyes glinted dangerously.

"I hate it when you do this," he muttered. "You tell me that it's nothing important, but you know that I'll get curious... Damn it, Arthur, just tell me! I want to know, alright? It's _one_ single point, how bad can it be?"

Arthur sighed and shook his head.

"No, I won't tell you," he replied. "And why would I when you think so badly of me? That I don't know how to be anything else than cruel? It's been partly for a small revenge, I admit that, but I have not only been cruel to you, you bloody git. Your house is clean, your clothes have been washed, you can actually see out through the windows now, you _have_ lost some weight. Has it really been that bad for you? It's a change from your normal lifestyle, true, but for once you have been doing something good."

Alfred stared at him for a moment.

_Damn... He heard that...? Crap, what do I do now...?_

When he thought about it, he remembered that it had felt rather good to do something... productive for once. It had been hard at first, not to mention that he had hated it to begin with; but once it was done, a certain sense of satisfaction had managed to reach him. It had been there, but he had refused to admit it.

Arthur looked away from him.

"If you're so eager to know what it was, then you can read the bloody list for yourself," he muttered as he managed to pry the younger man's hand away from his wrist. "I'll be in the guestroom."

He handed Alfred the list and quickly walked out from the room. He didn't seem angry, at least not if one thought of how he normally acted when he was in that mood. Instead, it was as if he expected something special to happen. With a slight frown, the younger nation picked up the paper and unfolded it. When he thought of it, there weren't _that_ many points... But Arthur had stressed the importance of actually taking care of most of these things whenever it was needed... He sighed quietly and ran his finger down the page, remembering each point. But the last one was... different. It was not a direct command like the others, but rather a simple question.

_What would you want as a reward?_

He stared at the words for a moment. They looked so very out of place.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean," he mumbled to himself. "What would I want as a reward...?"

He frowned slightly. He _had_ gone through the entire list, despite protests and grumbling... Did Arthur really want to reward him for doing that? And if so, then what _did_ he want? Not counting the food he loved, of course. Arthur would never think of that as a reward. He sighed quietly and leaned back. Arthur had actually taken time out of his schedule (which had surely been rather busy), only to make Alfred do something about some things. The Englishman _had_ cared enough to do that. Or well, maybe it had something to do with the fact that Arthur was one of few people who could force the headstrong American to do something he didn't want to do; the others were his boss and Matthew (whenever the quiet Canadian really decided to get angry).

"But he did claim that I'm gay," he mumbled. "I'm not..." A mischievous grin appeared on his lips. "Hah. Let's see how he reacts to _that_..."

* * *

Arthur sighed deeply and laid down on the bed, closing his eyes a little. He wasn't certain about what Alfred would do, but hopefully it wouldn't involve him.

_H-how could he say something like that?! We've done our best, we haven't been that cruel!_

_Sheesh, he's a fucking brat, featherboy. Of course he'd act like that! He didn't get to do what he wanted to, so he got pissed off instead!_

Arthur sighed quietly, opening his eyes again to see the Angel- and Devil-versions of himself floating above him. The Angel looked rather upset, on the verge of crying, and the Devil seemed most displeased with what had happened.

"Please, you two," he said softly. "It doesn't matter. He'll do whatever he wants, and it's not like I'll stop him."

_Want me to fry him?_

_He just said no, you git._

_What? I was just asking!_

"It just doesn't matter," Arthur repeated, this time successfully swatting at the Devil, which flew backwards and hit the wall. "I don't care right now."

Moments after he said this, the Angel and Devil disappeared. And before he had a chance of asking what was going on, the door flew open as Alfred burst into the room with a wide grin.

"Iggy," yelled the younger nation as he jumped up on the bed, standing on all fours over Arthur. "Iggy! I know what I want for a reward! I know what I want!"

The Englishman pushed at him with a quiet growl, a blush spreading on his cheeks. The git was way too close!

"Bloody hell, Alfred, get off," he grumbled. "It's embarrassing, get off!"

However, the American prat merely grinned and leaned down until their faces were mere inches apart. And the only thing Arthur could think about was that he had never quite thought of that the younger man's eyes were really _that_ particular shade of blue, blue as the sky... That beautiful shade of blue that so often missed due to the damn rainclouds, the colour he remembered that he saw more often when he was a child...

"But what I want involves you," said Alfred with a chuckle. "I'm not moving, Iggy, because I don't want to move. And you can't make me."

Arthur tried to push him away again; really, did the brat have no respect for personal space? It was rude to do something like this! But the former colony continued to grin, grabbed his wrists and pinned him down.

"How does this sound," he said. "How about you give me a kiss as a reward?"

And as the furiously blushing Englishman opened his mouth to protest, Alfred's lips crashed against his, tongue quickly slipping into Arthur's mouth. The kiss was eager, but a little too rough. Arthur squirmed, trying to make the brat let go of his wrists; and when that didn't work, he instead decided to respond with a gentle (but passionate) kiss. He held back a small satisfied smirk as Alfred let out a low groan before he slowly ended the kiss and pulled away.

"Thank you for proving my point," said Arthur and raised an eyebrow. "Insufferable git."

"Thank _you_ for proving that I wasn't wrong," Alfred replied with a cocky grin. "You really are gay."

"Hardly." Arthur huffed and swatted at the brat. "Bisexual, most likely. Remember Portugal and India? And I'm fairly certain that there were more..."

Alfred covered his mouth with one hand.

"Don't talk about ex-girlfriends now, old man," he said, an offended look flashing in his eyes. "Not really proper etiquette when you're with someone like this."

This time, Arthur could not hold back his smirk. He pushed away Alfred's hand and tilted his head a little bit, hardly thinking about that he was exposing his neck.

"Since when do you care about proper etiquette," he asked curiously. "You never gave a damn about things like that before."

Alfred merely laughed as he leant down and began to kiss and nip at Arthur's exposed neck, drawing low moans of appreciation from the older man.

"Because things like this are serious business," he quipped, moving up to nibble at the Englishman's earlobe instead. "And because I'd only ask you about your relationship with India to find out if you had learned any good positions from her."

Arthur blushed and sputtered, once again trying to push the laughing youngling away.

"D-don't say things like that, you bloody git," he yelled. "T-that's embarrassing!"

Alfred effectively silenced him by kissing him again, running his tongue over Arthur's lower lip to ask for entrance. And Arthur reluctantly obliged. It felt fairly useless to try and resist now.

---

The Angel and Devil hovered around the bed, curiously watching the two nations. The little Angel blushed and looked away, but he could not help but glance back at the bed every now and then. The Devil, however, carried a video-camera.

_I don't think that this is a good idea_, said the Angel shyly. _I... I might get in trouble for this, a-and..._

_Do you have any idea about how much my boss is going to love this_, asked the Devil with a wide grin. _I haven't managed to promote any Lust for _ages_, so this is the last push I need to move up in the ranks!_

He returned to moving around the bed, catching every single angle perfectly. And-... Woah. When had old Arthur been able to _bend_ like that? Even the Angel stared, the blush on his face deepening.

_I... M-maybe I won't get in trouble after all_, the Angel mumbled. _I mean... W-well... There's not o-only Lust involved..._

The Devil flashed him a pirate-grin and nodded.

_That's the spirit, Featherboy!_

_Don't call me Featherboy, you bloody twat! _

_---  
_

As the sun shone through the window, Arthur yawned and stretched, rubbing his eyes. He felt tired still, but not enough to continue sleeping; and he did absolutely not want to leave the bed just yet due to the very satisfying warm body next to him that had one arm flung over his stomach.

"Mnh... Iggy, you awake...?"

Arthur chuckled quietly.

"No? Of course I'm awake, you git."

Alfred's lips pressed against his neck.

"Mh, 'kay... Just wanted to check, you know, to make sure you weren't going to ruin my kitchen..."

"..." Arthur rolled his eyes. "Thanks for proving my point yesterday, anyway..."

Alfred chuckled and hugged him tightly as he continued to plant kisses over his old mentor's neck.

"I'm still not gay," he replied. "I have thought of a new term for what I am." He paused dramatically, and Arthur rolled over on his back to be able to look at the younger man. "Iggysexual."

The Englishman stared.

"That doesn't make any sense, you stupid git!"

"Yes, it does! I'm attracted to _you_, and you're Iggy! So, I'm Iggysexual!"

Arthur grabbed a pillow and proceeded with smacking the laughing young nation.


End file.
